


The Curse

by ghost_writer26 (kinksock22)



Series: Curse [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alpha Dean, Alpha Sam, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha/Omega, Alternate Universe, Angst, Angsty Schmoop, Barebacking, Bottom Sam, Claiming, Coming Untouched, First Time, Fuck Or Die, Knotting, M/M, Mating, Mating Cycles/In Heat, No Spoilers, Omega Sam, Season/Series 02, Self-Lubrication, Transformation, Wincest - Freeform, alpha to omega, fertility
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-08
Updated: 2016-03-08
Packaged: 2018-05-25 13:49:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,117
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6197458
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kinksock22/pseuds/ghost_writer26
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for this prompt at the kink meme: <i>Fuck or die with a twist: Sam who had been an alpha for his entire life is cursed( or any other alternative that the author chooses to use) into turning into an Omega permanently. Unfortunately, what the boys don't realize during researching to reverse the curse was that Sam needed to be claimed/mated by an alpha till they have only a few days to find someone suitable.</i></p><p>
  <i>Up to author whether it's crack with Sam trying out (dating-disastrously) different alphas or angsty with him knowing who he wants but unable to believe Dean would reciprocate his feeling. Ultimately please let him end up with Dean. (happy ending only, pretty please?)</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Curse

**Author's Note:**

> Written on 9/17/13 on livejournal under ghost_writer26. Un-beta'd.

Dean has always hated witches with a passion, probably more than any other supernatural creature or monster they’ve ever faced. Sam is really, truly starting to understand why.   
  
He curls into himself, pain like he never thought possible coursing through his entire body. He can actually  _feel_  the change; feel his knot shrinking until its gone – leaving the base of his cock smooth like it hasn’t been since he went through puberty – can feel his hole clenching and his channel pulsing as he starts to produce slick – which, okay he understands, but he’s certainly not aroused, why the fuck is  _that_  happening? – and he can swear that he even feels his fucking  _uterus_  growing inside his abdomen – like it’s not bad enough that he’s changing, won’t be an alpha anymore, now he’s going to be a  _fertile_ , male omega. As far as curses go, Sam’s pretty fucking sure this is the worst one they’ve ever encountered.   
  
Even though he and Dean were both born alphas, they were always close, even after their knots popped. Sure there was the typical sibling rivalry and arguments but it wasn’t near as bad as it could have been with two alpha males that close in age under the same household.   
  
So naturally, Dean’s there, trying to soothe Sam, petting him like he’s still a pup, even trying to hold him through the worst of the excruciating tremors of pain.   
  
The last bit of alpha in Sam has never wanted to kill his brother more.   
  
He collapses against the mattress, sweating and shaking, all thoughts of fratricide slowly leaving his mind – his brain the last part of him to turn apparently, the curse wanting the alpha in him to feel the pain and humiliation of becoming omega. He curls up against Dean’s side, whimpering and whining and seeking out his big brother as if he  _was_  still a pup. Dean shushes him and cuddles him close, sliding his hand through Sam’s sweat-soaked hair, an almost-purr rumbling in his chest as he tries to calm Sam down.   
  
The pain is subsiding but he’s still feeling off-center, his mind sluggish and his body tired and sore. Inhaling deeply, he gets a whiff of Dean, the usual alpha musk that used to make his hackles rise as an alpha, is now calming and soothing in the best possible ways and Sam cuddles into it, pressing his face against Dean’s neck, trying to chase that familiar-but-not scent.  
  
“’mma call Bobby,” Dean says softly, an undeterminable amount of time later. Sam’s finally calmed down, the tremors wracking through his frame finally slowing to a stop, just leaving him tired and sore.   
  
“M’kay,” Sam mutters, tightening his arms around Dean when his brother tries to get up off the mattress.  
  
Dean chuckles softly and runs his hand through Sam’s hair again, gently working out the tangles with his fingers. “Okay,” he breathes. “I’ll stay right here.”  
  
“Thanks, Dean,” Sam whispers.  
  
“Mmhmm,” Dean hums in answer.   
  
Sam drifts in and out of sleep as he half-ass listens to Dean’s side of the conversation. He doesn’t  _really_  need to pay attention, knows that his brother will take care of it, take care of  _him_ , like he’s always done – even when Sam was an ungrateful, selfish little shit.  
  
Dean tosses his phone on the table next to the bed and sighs. “Bobby doesn’t know anything offhand that’ll reverse it but he’s workin’ on it. Also, he’s lookin’ into the curse itself, seein’ if there’s something else there that we don’t know, somethin’ else that could happen to you.”

  
Sam sighs and forces himself to sit up slightly but still keeping contact with Dean as much as he can. He can’t explain it, just knows that he feels better with Dean by his side, just the thought of Dean not being close enough to touch enough to make him panic. “Guess we should hit the books too, huh?” Sam asks, peaking up at Dean through his lashes. Despite the tendency for alphas to butt heads, he and Dean have always worked well as a team, talking things through. It’s weird now to feel like he needs Dean to make the decisions and he’s uncomfortable with his need to submit to whatever his big brother says, to follow blindly. He trusts Dean with his life but he’s been an alpha for twenty-three years, suddenly having a new mindset is a little overwhelming.   
  
Dean nods and pushes himself off the mattress. Sam’s not sure if Dean ignores his sound of protest – or the whimpers coming from his throat – or if he just doesn’t hear them, but he’s grateful as hell when Dean just grabs the laptop and comes back over to the bed right away.  
  
As the days pass and they research until they can’t see straight – Bobby too – Sam gets worse instead of better. His whole body aches and his brain is a mess of confusing thoughts and feelings – leaving most of the research to Dean when Sam can’t concentrate on it enough anymore – and his heart feels like it’s about to pound out of his chest. He gets even clingier with Dean, which he didn’t think was possible, and his brother’s scent get simultaneously worse and better. By the third day, Sam can’t even sleep without Dean in the same bed and he’s running a low-grade temperature constantly.   
  
By the fifth day, Sam can’t get out of bed and there’s arousal coursing through his veins constantly – his cock hard  _all the time_  and his hole leaking so much that Dean has to change the bedding at least twice a day. Sam’s so far gone, he can’t even be embarrassed by that anymore, his body craving  _something_  but he just doesn’t know what. Dean has to practically carry him into the bathroom and stand right outside the shower while Sam sits – can’t stand on his own – under a spray of icy-cold water that does nothing to diminish his need. No amount of jerking off helps, he can come but it’s not at all satisfying, and his fingers inside himself do nothing but frustrate him further.   
  
In the end, the morning of the sixth day, it’s Bobby who finds the answer.   
  
Dean’s got the phone on speaker as he runs a cool wash cloth down Sam’s chest. Sam’s drifting in and out, trying his best to listen but it’s getting harder and harder – pun totally intended – to focus on anything other than Dean.   
  
“Seems we missed something the first time around,” Bobby grumbles into the phone. “This ain’t no normal curse. It’s permanent, first off. And… shit,” Bobby sighs, “that ain’t the worst of it. It’s a damn fuck or die curse. Or in this case, mate or die.”  
  
“What?” Dean growls, flopping down on the mattress near Sam’s bare hip, his hand still absently moving over Sam’s chest with the cloth, glaring at the phone – and by extension, Bobby – like they’re to blame for this. “You mean we gotta find Sammy a mate?”  
  
“Yeah,” Bobby sighs and Sam can barely make out the rustle of papers, “Within the week that the curse was first placed.”  
  
“That’s… What the fuck, Bobby?!” Dean yells. “That’s fuckin’ tomorrow!”  
  
“Watch your tone with me, boy,” Bobby snaps back. “I’m well a-fuckin’-ware of the timeframe here.”  
  
“What the hell’re we supposed to do then?” Dean growls. “How the fuck am I supposed to find him a mate…” Dean trails off, his eyes snapping down to Sam’s, his glare softening into something Sam can’t identify, “Fuck, you’re in heat,” he says softly, focusing solely on Sam. “’m sorry, Sammy. I didn’t… I should’a seen it.”  
  
“’s okay, Dean,” Sam whispers, blinking slowly. It’s getting harder and harder to reopen his eyes every time. “’s not like we ever really seen someone in heat before.”

  
 “Still,” Dean argues, because he’s  _Dean_  and everything is his fault, no matter what,” I should’a known.” He pushes the hair back off Sam’s forehead before turning his attention back to the phone. “Does it have to be a mate or can I just find someone to knot him?”  
  
If Sam felt better, he’d take offense to them talking about him like he’s not even there.  
  
“Mate,” Bobby says, what sounds an awful lot like regret in his tone. Sam gets it. It’d be hard enough just to find an alpha to knot him, finding one to mate him will be impossible. All three of them know what this means, there’s no sense in denying it anymore.   
  
“Thanks, Bobby,” Sam whispers.   
  
“Shit, I… ‘m sorry, boys.”  
  
Dean grunts and hangs up the phone, tossing it at the wall. “Fuck!” he yells.   
  
Sam sighs and tries to sit up, an overwhelming need burning inside him to calm his brother down. “Dean,” he pleads softly. “’s okay…”  
  
“No, it’s sure as shit  _not_  okay, Sam!” Dean barks out, pushing himself up off the mattress to pace the room. The scent of his anger barely overrides the scent of fear and uncertainty and just barely lingering beneath the surface, possessiveness. “I can’t…” he trails off, turning his back to Sam completely.  
  
“Can’t what?” Sam whispers, his whole body aching, muscles twitching, from being so far away from his brother.   
  
“I can’t just fuckin’ let you die,” Dean whispers back, sad and broken. “I gotta… Shit, I gotta do somethin’. Will you be alright by yourself for a while so I can go…”  
  
“Go what?” Sam interrupts, “Find some alpha that we don’t know who’s willin’ to mate me? That’s not… I don’t want that, Dean,” Sam sighs, rubbing at his chest, the thought of some strange alpha fucking, knotting, and claiming him making his heart hurt, his stomach roll. Sam doesn’t want to die, doesn’t want his brother to have to witness this, but he sure as hell isn’t going to just submit to anyone. He may be omega now but that doesn’t mean that he’ll just roll over for any knot.  
  
Dean huffs out a sigh and glances over his shoulder, his gaze softening. “Shit, Sammy, ‘m sorry,” he mutters and flops down on the mattress, pulling Sam close. Sam sighs softly, the pain lessening now that Dean’s close again. He’s not stupid, he knows what’s happening to him, what’s  _been_  happening to him, and the biggest reason that the thought of mating with someone else is so unappealing to him. Sam’s already chosen his mate, probably would’ve chosen him years ago if they weren’t both born alphas.   
  
Tears bite at the corners of Sam’s eyes and he turns away from his brother – his alpha. Dean tries to follow, wrapping his arms around Sam from behind, his nose buried in the sweaty hair at the back of Sam’s neck. “Sammy?”   
  
“You should,” Sam’s voice cracks, the words he’s about to say the hardest thing he’s ever said in his life, “You should go ‘head and leave. You don’t… I don’t want you here when the time comes.”  
  
“Are you kidding me right now?” Dean asks harshly. “Has your heat fried your damn brain or are you just out of your fuckin’ mind? There’s no way that ‘m gonna  _leave_  you.”  
  
“All you’re gonna do is watch me die,” Sam replies, as calmly as he can. “Do you really wanna see that?”  
  
“We got time…”  
  
“To what?” Sam snaps, turning over onto his back to glare up at his brother. “To sit here and watch it get worse? There’s no fuckin’ solution, Dean! ‘m gonna fuckin’ die. And I’d really rather you not be here for that.” Sam pushes himself up off the mattress, his knees buckling beneath him. Dean’s off the bed in a flash, his arms wrapped around Sam, holding most of his weight. “Lemme go,” Sam demands weakly, his head lolling against Dean’s shoulder. “Gimme m’fuckin’ gun and just go.”  
  
“No, Sam,” Dean argues. “’m not leavin’ and ‘m not gettin’ you your fuckin’ gun.”  
  
“I don’t… Dean, it hurts,” Sam whimpers. “I can’t… I just want it over.”

  
“Shh,” Dean coos, pressing a kiss to Sam’s temple. “’s okay, little brother. ‘m here.” He pulls Sam up off the floor and puts him back in bed, crawling onto the mattress, behind him, curling protectively around his back. “’s okay,” he repeats.  
  
“Dean,” Sam breathes, his eyes squeezing closed at a fresh wave of pain and arousal. “I can’t… God, this hurts so much.”  
  
“What can I do?” Dean asks softly, rocking Sam back and forth gently. “Tell me what to do,” he adds on a whisper, his voice cracking.  
  
“Nothin’ you can do,” Sam curls up tighter, pulling his legs up toward his chest. “I need’ta be knotted, mated. ‘s not gonna stop ‘til then.”  
  
“Then let me try’n go find someone…”  
  
“It won’t work,” Sam cuts him off, sighing softly. “Even in heat, I won’t accept another alpha.”  
  
Dean’s whole body goes tense behind him and Sam damn-near chokes on the stench of anger and jealousy. “What?” Dean grits out. “You’ve chosen an alpha?”  
  
“Doesn’t matter,” Sam mutters. He can’t believe that he’s so far gone that he let that slip. He’s been doing so good the last few days.   
  
“Like hell it doesn’t!” Dean yells, pulling Sam over onto his back. The wild, almost-feral look in Dean’s eyes makes Sam whimper, his hole leaking like I busted pipe. He can smell is own arousal, thicker than it has been this whole time, sugary-sweet and blending so well with Dean’s natural, woodsy musk. “When did you… I’ve barely left you alone for a week! When the hell did you chose a fuckin’ alpha?”  
  
Sam’s heat-hazy mind is having trouble understanding why Dean’s so angry about the fact that he’s chosen an alpha when just five minutes ago he was begging Sam to let him go out and find someone.  
  
“Who is it, Sam?” Dean growls.   
  
“It doesn’t matter, Dean,” Sam repeats, his eyes fluttering closed, his whole body flushing even hotter. “Please, stop…”  
  
“It does!” Dean argues.   
  
“Why?” Sam sighs, forcing his eyes open again.   
  
“Because you’re mine!” Dean yells. “You’ve been mine since the day you were fucking born!”  
  
Sam snorts out a humorless laugh and shakes his head. “Up until a week ago, I was your pain-in-the-ass little brother,” he counters. “Your  _alpha_  brother.”  
  
Dean narrows his eyes and snarls a bit. “You’re still my pain-in-the-ass little brother,” he growls. “And if I thought I could’a gotten away with it without you shootin’ me in the face, I would’a mated you years ago.”  
  
It’s not  _completely_  unheard of for an alpha to fuck, knot, or even mate, another alpha, but it is  _extremely_  fucking rare.   
  
Sam licks his lips and swallows thickly, his mouth opening and closing a few times but nothing comes out. It’s not that he has nothing to say, it’s that he has  _too much_  to say. There are a million thoughts all swirling around in his head, all trying to get out at the same time: _Why didn’t you tell me? How could you spend our whole lives hiding this from me, lying to me? Why now? Are you doing this, saying all this, just because I’m dying and you’ll do anything to stop it? How could you even suggest giving me to someone else if you love me?_  
  
He pushes himself up off the mattress again, not even caring when he hits the floor, his bones jarring painfully and his muscles screaming in pain. He crawls a feet few away, not sure what the hell he’s doing, just knows that he’s so confused and his body  _hurts_ and Dean’s sitting there telling him everything he’s ever wanted to hear and he just… he  _can’t_.   
  
“Sammy,” Dean growls, collapsing to his knees on the dirty, thread-bare carpet in front of Sam, reaching out for him, trying to pull Sam back toward him. “You stupid son of a bitch,” he mutters, shaking his head.   
  
Sam forces his head up, his body swaying back and forth, and blinks owlishly, trying to get his brother into focus. “’s you,” he rasps.   
  
“What?” Dean asks, frowning in confusion. “What’s me?”  
  
“M’alpha,” Sam whispers just before he passes out, his head hitting the dingy carpet. 

  
Sam comes to in a lukewarm but mostly-cold bath, the water all the way up to his neck, his legs bent awkwardly to get all of him inside the not-quite-big enough tub. Dean’s sitting on the floor next to him, one hand buried in Sam’s hair, his green eyes dark and intense where he’s staring at Sam. He doesn’t know what exactly that look is for or how long he’s been out, just knows that he’s too tired and sore to fight with Dean anymore, especially considering that it’s so close to the end.   
  
But Dean doesn’t say anything, just continues to stare and it’s more than a little unnerving. “What?” Sam eventually rasps.  
  
“You…” Dean pauses, clears his throat, “You just say something like that then pass out? What the fuck, Sam? I thought…” Dean trails off, the hand not still in Sam’s hair rubbing the back of his neck.   
  
“You thought?” Sam urges.  
  
“I thought that I lost you,” Dean murmurs. There are rarely – if ever – seen tears shining in Dean’s eyes and Sam’s still confused. He tries to remember what he said before he lost consciousness but things have been getting fuzzier and fuzzier the closer they get to the deadline.   
  
Sam shifts uncomfortably in the tub, having Dean this close both a blessing and a curse. “Can I get out?” he murmurs.  
  
“Depends,” Dean huffs. “If you’re still hot enough to fry your brain, no.”  
  
Sam sits still and lets Dean take his temperature, his eyes closed, a whimper trapped in his chest at the sensation of his brother’s hands on him. Dean makes a displeased sound in the back of his throat and Sam forces his eyes open to look at him. “Still high,” Dean grumbles. “But not dangerously so anymore.” To Sam’s horror – and vocal displeasure – Dean shoves his arms into the water and grabs Sam, bridal-style, and carries him into the main room, dripping cold water all the way to the bed. Dean gently puts him down in the middle of the mattress and goes back into the bathroom, returning with a few towels. He spreads one out on the other bed – the one they haven’t been using for almost a week – and uses the other to dry Sam off as best as he can. Sam weakly hits Dean’s shoulder when he picks him up again and transfers him to the other – dry – bed.   
  
Dean’s quiet while he strips off his wet shirts but instead of digging through his duffel for something else to put on, he sits down next to Sam, the most serious look on his face that Sam’s ever seen.   
  
“We’ve got about thirty-six hours left,” Dean states, tone rough but soft. “I thought about this a lot while you were out and I’m not gonna let you die,” Sam opens his mouth, once again ready to protest, but Dean holds up one hand, “No arguments, Sam. Now, this is gonna go either one’a two ways. Either I go out and find you someone, who I’ll just end up having to kill once I know you’re okay, or…” he trails off, rubbing the back of his neck, “Or we finally stop bein’ so fuckin’ stupid and stubborn and go with what’s right in front of us, what’s been here all along.”  
  
“Dean, I don’t… What’re you saying?”  
  
“Did you mean what you said, Sammy? Do you remember what I said?”  
  
Sam blinks owlishly a few times, a hazy memory surfacing of him telling Dean that he is his alpha and Dean saying something about mating him years ago but Sam honestly can’t be sure if that’s real or a temperature-induced hallucination. “I don’t… ‘m not sure,” Sam says softly.  
  
Dean sighs and grabs the back of Sam’s neck, his fingers gently kneading the tense muscle. He pulls Sam forward, their foreheads pressing together. Sam inhales deeply, his eyes fluttering closed. There’s a part of him that just wants Dean to go ahead and leave, to let him die in peace but the bigger part doesn’t want to die alone, in some dingy motel room.   
  
He jerks when he feels the barest brush of something warm and soft against his lips. His eyes snap open and he pulls back, as far away as he can get, that is, with Dean’s hand still holding the back of his neck. “Dean?” he whispers.

  
Dean licks his lips, his thumb brushing back and forth, slow and maddening, along the side of Sam’s neck. “I wanted to do this since you were fourteen,” he admits quietly.   
  
“D-do what?”  
  
Dean smiles softly and leans forward again, brushing his lips across Sam’s. “That.”  
  
Sam sighs and shakes his head, his head dipping forward so their foreheads are pressed together again. “Don’t do this, Dean,” he half-begs. “I don’t… Savin’ me isn’t worth doin’ this to yourself.”  
  
“What’d’ya mean?”  
  
“I don’t wanna be saved like this. I can’t let you mate me just ‘cause you don’t want me to die.”  
  
Dean huffs out a sigh and pulls Sam closer, their bodies wrapped around each other. “That’s not what I’m doin’, little brother.”  
  
“So, what, you’re tellin’ me that you actually  _want_  to mate me?” Sam asks incredulously.   
  
“That’s exactly what ‘m sayin’,” Dean replies, firm but still soft. “Told you, wanted to since you were fourteen…”  
  
“I popped my knot at twelve, Dean,” Sam huffs, rolling his eyes even though he feels like his head is going to explode.  
  
“I’m well aware, Sam,” Dean huffs back. “I don’t… It didn’t matter that you were an alpha too. Not to me. You’ve always been mine, Sammy. I wouldn’t’a done anything about it, but only because I didn’t think you’d ever feel the same.”  
  
Sam shakes his head, tears biting at his eyes. God, he hurts so much and Dean’s saying all the right things and he just wishes that he could believe it was true. “Dean,” he whimpers.  
  
“Shh,” Dean coos. “I know, ‘s okay.” He hugs Sam to his chest as tight as he can, one hand sliding down Sam’s back. Sam groans at the scent of arousal in the air – spicy and thick combined with Dean’s natural woodsy scent – and his stomach clenches, his hole pulsing out fresh globs of slick. Dean buries his face against Sam’s neck, inhaling deeply, a half-growl, half-moan rumbling in his chest. “God, you smell so fuckin’ good, Sammy.”  
  
“You… Why’d you say that you’d go find someone else for me?” Sam forces himself to ask, trying not to get lost in the smell surrounding him, the sensation of Dean pressed as tight against him as possible.  
  
“I had’ta save you,” Dean rasps. “But I… Once I knew you were okay, I would’a killed him, Sammy.”  
  
Sam groans again, tilting his head to the side, arching his neck. Dean’s lips slide over his frantically pounding pulse, nipping at his sweat-slick skin, not hard enough to break the flesh but hard enough to feel. “Alpha,” Sam breathes.  
  
Dean pushes him back against the mattress, both hands gripping the sides of his face, forcing Sam to look at him. “Are you sure this is what you want, Sam?” he asks, tone hard enough to be a command. “This isn’t just cause’a your heat and ‘m the only alpha around?”  
  
“No,” Sam breathes. “I mean, yes. Shit, I don’t… I want you, Dean,” he finally blurts out. “On some level I always have.” Sam swallows thickly, licks his sandpaper-dry lips. “You sure this is what  _you_  want?” he asks, needing to hear Dean say it again.   
  
Dean smiles at him, his thumb brushing softly over his cheekbone, down over where his dimple would be if he smiled. “Heat’s really gotten to you, huh?” he asks softly. “Told you already, Sammy. Yeah, ‘m sure.”  
  
“What about Bobby?” Sam asks. “He’s gonna know something happened when I turn up miraculously okay.”  
  
“Doesn’t matter,” Dean replies, matter-of-factly. “He can accept it or not, I frankly don’t care.”   
  
Sam knows that’s a lie – ever since Dad died, they’ve both gotten closer to Bobby and he’s become like a second father to them – but he doesn’t call his brother on it. Dean slides one hand down Sam’s side, pausing at his hip, warm palm cupping the bone. “You really wanna talk about Bobby right now?” Dean asks, one eyebrow quirked, a smirk pulling up one side of his lips.   
  
Despite everything – the pain and the confusion and everything else – Sam still chuckles softly, shaking his head fondly at his brother. “Not really, no,” Sam agrees. “But I just… I want you to know what you’re getting into Dean…”  
  
“You tryin’ to talk me outta this?” Dean interrupts.

  
 “No,” Sam shakes his head, “But I want… Think about it. Bobby might not accept it. Dad sure as shit wouldn’t have approved. There won’t be any more diner waitresses or bar sluts. You’ll be stuck with me.”  
  
Dean searches his eyes for a moment then dips down and presses a kiss to Sam’s lips. “We’ll deal with Bobby,” he says softly once he pulls away. And Dad…” he inhales deeply, exhales slowly, “Dad’s gone, so that doesn’t… I don’t care either way. I’d still do it even if he was still around. And as for bein’ with someone else… That doesn’t matter either. And I wanna be stuck with you.”  
  
“Sap,” Sam teases, just to avoid dealing with the emotions tightening his throat from his big brother’s speech.   
  
“Shuddup,” Dean mutters. “Figure under the circumstances, we can stow the no chick-flick rule for right now.” The hand on his hip is kneading gently, thick fingers clenching and unclenching against bone and muscle. “You done talkin’ now? Can we get on with this?”  
  
“Okay,” Sam whispers, nerves skyrocketing for some reason. His body’s ready – has  _been_  ready – and he trusts his brother, loves his brother, and doesn’t regret his decision. But the thought of what’s to come – sex, knotting, mating – kind of scares him to death.   
  
Dean dips his head, nuzzling under Sam’s jaw, his lips pressing soft, sweet kisses to his pulse. “’s okay, baby boy,” Dean promises. “I’ll takes care’a you, Sammy. You know I will.”  
  
Sam tilts his head to the side, submitting completely to his brother, his alpha. Dean growls, the sound rumbling through his chest and into Sam’s and his eyes flutter closed, a soft moan tearing from his throat. Dean nips at his throat again before pulling away, one hand sliding through Sam’s hair. “Shh,” he coos when Sam whimpers. “Not goin’ anywhere.”  
  
Sam bites down on his bottom lip, watches silently while Dean stands up beside the bed, quickly pulling off his jeans and boxer briefs. He’s hard, his cock curling up towards his abs, pre-come leaking from his slit, the very slight bulge of his knot where it’s already starting to grow. Sam lets his lip slide free, his eyes slowly travelling up Dean’s body – lean hips, flat abs, broad chest and shoulders – until he gets to his brother’s face, his eyes. Even though the physical proof is right there – huge and hard to miss – the heat in those familiar green depths still takes Sam by surprise.  
  
Dean crawls onto the mattress, his hand sliding across Sam’s stomach, curling around his hip again. It’s a small touch, but it’s intimate and Sam gasps softly, his back arching off the mattress. “Please, Dean,” he breathes, trembling hands reaching out, trying to touch any part of Dean he can, needing to feel that warm, baby-soft, bare skin.   
  
Dean’s hand slides down the outside of Sam’s thigh and Sam’s legs spread automatically; chilly air from the room hitting damp skin where he’s been leaking again making him shiver. Thick, gun-calloused fingers slide up the inside of his thigh, maddeningly slow, as Dean dips his head, slanting their lips together. Sam opens up immediately when the tip of Dean’s tongue nudges at the seam of his lips. The kiss turns heated quickly but still slow, passionate; Dean taking his time, kissing him breathless, his mind and body demanding  _more-faster-now_. Sam tries to take over the kiss but Dean pulls back enough to keep it slow and thorough. On the few occasions that Sam let himself think about this, he kind of always figured that Dean would be wild, rough, but he’s not. There’s an understated power and domination in the kiss, the slow, deliberate way he’s touching Sam that makes him tremble.   
  
Dean’s fingers slide up higher, barely brushing Sam’s balls and Sam pulls away from the kiss with a gasp, his chest already heaving. “Please, Dean,” he repeats, begging.  
  
Dean smiles down at him and presses another quick, chaste kiss to his lips. “Shh,” he whispers. “Just lemme take care’a you, okay? We’ll get there.”   
  
Sam can’t help but wonder if he’ll die of frustration before the curse takes him with the way Dean’s drawing this out.  
  
Dean groans when his fingers slip back behind Sam’s sac, sliding through the slick that Sam’s been producing for days now. “Fuck,” Dean rasps. “So wet, baby boy.” 

  
Sam’s eyes slam closed, his cock twitching and his hole pulsing, the thrill of  _dirty-bad-wrong_  just making this so much better. Sibling mates are even rarer than alphas mating but that doesn’t really matter to Sam; the thought that he’s about to mate with his brother just makes it hotter somehow.   
  
Dean presses the tips of two fingers against his rim and Sam’s hips jerk, almost of their own accord, trying to bury them inside himself. His upper body twists toward Dean, his arms wrapping around his mate’s shoulders, his face buried in his neck. The familiar scent of his brother, of home, mixed with the newer scent of his mate’s arousal makes his head spin.   
  
Sam cries out when Dean pushes, his fingers sinking into Sam like a hot knife through butter. Over the last few days, whenever Sam got time to himself – usually in the shower – he’d tried fingering himself, tried to take the edge off what his body was demanding. It never helped, left him more frustrated than anything but it at least helped him to get used to having something inside him. That, along with the natural slick and the fact that Sam’s body is now made for this, has him instantly wanting more.   
  
He rocks his hips down, trying to take Dean’s fingers in deeper, a frustrated sound bubbling up from his throat when he realizes that they’re in as far as they can go. “More,” he gasps. “Please… More, Dean.”  
  
Dean hums softly in the back of his throat and presses a third finger in with the other two, twisting and stretching, rubbing over Sam’s prostate but it’s still not enough. Sam claws at Dean’s back, trying to get closer, his thigh muscles twitching and jerking, his hips thrusting back against Dean’s fingers, chasing more, deeper, harder.   
  
“Sammy,” Dean says softly. “C’mon, calm down, baby. I got’cha.”  
  
“More, Dean,” Sam half-sobs. “Please, more… I need…”  
  
“Okay, alright,” Dean soothes. He pulls his fingers away and gently tries to remove Sam’s arms from around his shoulders. “C’mon, Sammy,” Dean coaxes softly. “Need you to let go. Need you to flip over.”  
  
Sam tightens his hold around Dean, shaking his head. “No,” he mutters, as petulant as he can when it feels like his whole body is on fire. “Wanna see you.”  
  
“That’s not… It’s easier on your hands and knees, or at the very least on your side. Especially the first time.”  
  
“I don’t care,” Sam grits out. “Please, just,” he huffs a sigh, “Please, Dean. I… I need to see you,” he adds, soft and weak.  
  
Dean sighs but presses a kiss to the side of his head, shifting around until he’s between Sam’s legs. Sam stares up at his brother, his breathing harsh, his chest heaving, as Dean reaches down between them, blindly lining himself up. Sam moans, his fingers digging into Dean’s back hard enough to bruise, when Dean pushes forward, not stopping until he’s buried to the hilt.   
  
“Fuck,” Dean groans, his eyes squeezing closed for a moment before reopening to look down at Sam. “Feels so good, Sammy. So wet, so tight.”  
  
Sam unclenches his fingers, his hands sliding down Dean’s spine, pressing on the small of his back. It feels fucking _amazing_  but Sam still needs more. “Move,” he half-begs, half-commands.  
  
Dean chuckles, a short, husky sound, and dips down, pressing a kiss to Sam’s lips. “Pushy,” he teases.  
  
Sam narrows his eyes, glaring up at his brother. “Don’t be a jerk.” Deep down, he’s glad though, happy that even though Dean’s buried inside him, about to not only knot, but mate him, that they’re still the same. He doesn’t want to lose his brother, or the bond that they already have.   
  
“Bitch,” Dean purrs ridiculously. “ _My_  bitch.” 

  
Before Sam can think of anything to say, Dean pulls his hips back then slides forward again, his thick shaft dragging along Sam’s sensitive rim, his cock-head hitting Sam’s prostate perfectly. “Oh God,” Sam moans, his thighs tightening around Dean’s hips. “Just like that.”  
  
Dean sets an even, steady,  _perfect_  rhythm, hitting all those sensitive places inside Sam, spots that he never knew existed, never knew could feel so fucking good. He understands now how Dean earned his well-deserved sex god status, understands all those betas and omegas panting after his older brother.  
  
“Feel good, Sammy?” Dean rasps, his hips picking up speed and power, slamming into Sam hard enough that it should hurt but he inexplicably just wants more.   
  
“Nngh.” Sam grunts, unable to form coherent sentences, hell, even coherent  _thoughts_  anymore. All that his brain keeps chanting, over and over, is  _more, mate, mine, knot_.   
  
Dean dips down, mouthing at his neck, growling in approval when Sam tilts his head to the side. “That’s it, baby boy,” Dean purrs. Sam cries out when Dean’s teeth sink into his neck, sharp incisors tearing through flesh, the conflicting sensation of pleasure/pain enough to make his untouched cock twitch, his orgasm hitting him out of the blue.   
  
Dean slams forward once more, grinding his hips, and Sam can feel his knot swelling, the burn of being stretched even wider prolonging the pleasure, his cock twitching out a few more weak pulses of his release. He can feel his inner muscles clenching, contracting around Dean’s cock, his knot, and Sam tightens his hold around his brother’s waist.   
  
Dean lets up the pressure of his teeth, licking at the wound in silent apology. He moans harshly and Sam feels him swell, his knot pulsing, can even swears he feels the first burst of his release hitting his still fluttering inner muscles. Dean shifts his weight to his forearms and knees, keeping as much off Sam as he can and pulls his head back, pressing a quick kiss to Sam’s lips. The coppery tang of blood on Dean’s lips makes him moan again, his not-quite-soft yet cock twitching against his stomach.   
  
“You okay?” Dean asks softly, one hand petting through his sweat-damp hair.   
  
“Yeah,” Sam sighs, shifting slightly to get comfortable. His heat is still there, still making him ache and his brain a little fuzzy but it’s let up some. He knows that he has at least the rest of today and tomorrow to go before he’ll feel completely better. It thrills him to know that he’ll spend most of that time tied to his brother, forming the new bond of their mating. “You okay?” he asks tentatively. He’s still waiting for the fall-out, for Dean to realize what they did, what he did, and freak out about it.   
  
But Dean just grins and kisses him again, grinding his hips forward, his knot pressing against Sam’s over-sensitive prostate. He chuckles when Sam groans and his cock twitches again. Fucking bastard. Sam settles back against the mattress, his arms loosely draped over Dean’s shoulders, and closes his eyes. He’ll worry about everything tomorrow, or the next day, once his heat’s over. They still need to find the witch that cursed Sam and somehow explain to Bobby what happened, why Sam’s not a pile of ash right now and they need to figure out the new dynamic of their relationship. But Sam’s not worried about that right now, he’s got his mate, his brother, right here with him and he’s honestly happy for the first time in a long time.   
  
As far as curses go, Sam thinks this one might not be quite so bad.

 


End file.
